If You Only Knew
by Ninasaurrr
Summary: It is the night before the battle at the barricade, and Grantaire has something he needs to tell Enjolras - something he needs to get off of his chest before it is too late.


_Without you next to me I_

_Toss and turn like the sea_

_If I drown tonight, bring me_

_Back to life_

_Breathe your breath in me_

_The only thing that I still believe_

_In is you, if you only knew_

He couldn't help it. God knows he had tried to stop, tried to avert his eyes and busy himself with stripping his gun or painting a banner, but he couldn't help it; at the end of the day, he always looked back to Enjolras.

They had been best friends since they were young, seven-year-olds stumbling along the streets of France, playing with wooden swords and yelling about how one day, they would both be kings. It had never been anything more than pure fantasy for Grantaire, yet it has always been different for Enjolras – the way he held himself now, the way he could silence a room with one look…if he didn't know better, Grantaire would have thought him a king. Maybe he was in his own right?

They had always been as thick as thieves, sticking by one another right until this very day…yet as the Revolution neared, as the inevitable fight came to its climax, he began to feel as if he was losing Enjolras, to some extent. He had never felt the bite of the fight, the passion for the battle, but had endured his best friends rants and schemes because…well, what else could he do? His fake enthusiasm had always been good enough - right until Marius showed up, and everything began to change.

Even Grantaire could tell that Marius' enthusiasm was almost enough to rival Enjolras'. It was pure and real, and when they began one of their conjoined speeches, the talk could almost rouse him to stand and cheer and shout with the others – almost. Instead, he went on staring down at the end of his beer bottle, flashing them both encouraging smiles. He didn't hate Marius, even if he had stolen his best friend's attention…he just wished he could join in with them.

"Tomorrow, the storm comes," Enjolras continued, unaware of Grantaire's lack of attention. "Tomorrow, our ranks will storm the barricade and will fight to the death against those who oppose us!"

"They want us as slaves!" shouted Marius, picking up smoothly. "They want to ensnare us and take away our freedom more than they already have – but we won't let them!"

"Tomorrow, the change comes! Tomorrow will bring a new dawn and a new France-"

"And we will be free!"

"Some come to arms, my brothers-"

"Our friends-"

"And fight with us!"

"Defend your honour-"

"Defend your country! Now who's with me?!" The room burst into shouts and clapping, men jumping up from their seats and slamming their hands against each other's backs, crowing at their eventual demise. Grantaire stayed where he was, slumped on a chair in the very corner of the room, wine bottle half-drained in his hand. During a parting in the crowd, Enjolras caught his eye, and he raised his eyebrow, as if looking for Grantaire's approval. Grantaire smiled – it was brief, but Enjolras' eyes lit up with pride, and he turned back around to hug Marius. Biting his lips, Grantaire looked away, trying to squelch the feeling of jealousy rising in his throat. _One more day, one more day until this is all over._

"Hey Granty-boy!" A scrape against the creaky wooden floor, and Enjolras was beside him, face flushed with excitement; he looked like a little boy at Christmas.

"Hey Ras," he murmured, trying to tone down the broad grin that was slowly spreading across his lips. "Nice speech."

"Nice? Hah! It was great – these boys are riled and ready to go!" He leaned forward in his chair, his face so close that Grantaire could pick out each individual speck of stubble across his broad jaw.

"I think we could win this, Grant. We could win this and – and just imagine how different the rest of our lives would be! We'd be kings, brother – we'd have riches beyond our wildest dreams, and would be respected across the land! Women would fall onto their knees for our favour – if you know what I mean," he winked, his lips twisted into a wild smirk. Grantaire rolled his eyes, but shot him another small smile of his own; despite being inclined the other way, he could understand his friend's excitement.

"I am sure we will be victorious."

"If you are sure then I am more than sure!" Enjolras boomed, whisking the bottle of wine from between his fingers and taking a long gulp. Grantaire's eyes lingered on the bottle lid, watching as Ras' mouth closed over the place his had been moments before. Indirectly touching – it was not enough. Uncomfortable, Grantaire rose.

"I need some air." Without waiting for a reply, he fled from the room, hurrying down the stairs and storming out of the front door into the cool nights breeze. In front of him lay the barricade, tall and broad and a mismatch of broken furniture and flags; behind him lay his friends, his future. He closed his eyes and let the cold air seep into his lungs, cooling him down, both physically and mentally. Caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't notice Enjolras until his hand closed around his forearm and he had spun him around.

"What was that about? You just walked out –"

"I said I needed air, is all."

"All I'm saying is that you could have waited for me." Shaking his hand off, Grantaire folded his arms across his chest and marched across the street towards an abandoned house on the other side, slouching down against the wall and resting his head back against the brittle boards. After a few moments, Enjolras slowly lowered himself down beside him.

For a few minutes or hours, the pair sat together in the biting breeze, watching as the sky grew darker and the stars began to shine. Eventually, Grantaire turned his head towards his best friend, and was surprised when he saw Enjolras already watching him, eyes half-closed from the consumption of wine. Turning his head back away, he balled his hands up into fists. _Let it go, let it go, let it go._

_The time is just right. We might be dead this time tomorrow, for all we know._

_But what if you survive?_

_But what if we don't?_

"Ras?" his voice came out hoarse, rough, and he cleared his throat before repeating himself.

"Yes, Grant?"

"I…if we don't make it tomorrow-"

"But we will! You said yourself that you were sure-"

"But say if we don't – say if we don't make it, there's something you need to know…"

"…Which is? Spit it out already."

"It's not as simple as that –"

"Yes it is, you're just choosing to be difficult, just tell me already-" Swallowing his pride, Grantaire unfolded his arms and impulsively grabbed his best friend's hand, tasting blood on his tongue as he bit his lip, waiting for Enjolras to shake him off in disgust. It was minutes before he realised he hadn't. Turning his head to the side, he fought back a smile as Enjolras stared at him, his own small smirk lighting up his features in the dark. Encouraged, he slowly worked his hand loose and slid his fingers between Enjolras', feeling the rough, coarse skin graze against his own.

"It might have just been quicker if you'd said something, you know? These silences are long, and according to someone, we don't have a lot of time left –"

"Never said that; I never said that." Enjolras laughed then, a deep throaty laugh that got caught in his throat as Grantaire pressed his lips against his. For a moment, neither of them moved or breathed, as if both were worried any slight shift would disturb this quiet pocket in time. Slowly, Grantaire kissed him again, basking in the touch of his soft lips, his rough stubble, and trying not to shudder as Enjolras' free hand slipped behind his neck, curling into a fist at the base of his unruly brown curls. His mouth parted and he slid his tongue inside, tasting the salty musk of the man he had loved ever since they were young.

He didn't know how long they kissed for, but by the time they finally broke apart, the sun was pushing at the edges of the horizon. Resting his head against Enjolras', he stared him in the eye, drinking in everything about him and saving it for later.

"I'm sorry," he finally blurted out. "I'm sorry for waiting so long to say something. I just thought that if you knew, we – it wouldn't be the same. You've been my friend since before I can remember, I couldn't afford to put that at risk-"

"I understand. The blame is not all for you to bear – I could have said something, too.

"Should, could, would. We can't change the past."

"I suppose not," he paused, as if in contemplation. "To be cliché, we can still change the future-"

"But can we?" he turned to face him, letting go of his hand and grabbing his face between his two palms. "Today, we really go to war. I don't know if we're going to make it – you most likely will, but I…I'm not so sure about myself- "

"Don't say that," Enjolras murmured sweetly, brushing his lips back against Grantaire's and sending his brain into a frenzy.

"Goddammit, Ras. Please, just listen. If we don't make it, if I don't live, I am glad we had tonight. Tonight has been what I have been waiting for, and it was worth everything. We've had this night. No matter what happens, please do not forget that."

"And you neither," Enjolras whispered quietly, his eyes locked on his own. "I know we're going to make it, but just in case – you don't forget either."

_I won't, Ras. I won't._


End file.
